


The Question in the Quest

by afrocurl, pallorsomnium



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Dubious Consent, Erik Has Feelings, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Personal Growth, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallorsomnium/pseuds/pallorsomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quests have long been required of the royal family in Genosha to prove their worth to the people. </p><p>Young Prince Alex's quest, however, is not just a test of his spirit, but that of his trusted guard, Erik. </p><p>What will happen when Erik's personal desires conflict with the solemn oath he gave first King, King Christopher?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Question in the Quest

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off Miya's [original prompt](http://i.imgur.com/xjpusNc.jpg). You can look at all of her work [here](http://pallorsomnium.livejournal.com/17369.html). Miya's going to be adding art to this story proper later, so come back and look for it.

> Only ten years ago, a just and noble king, King Christopher of the House Summers, ruled the land. During his reign, the kingdom of Genosha prospered: fields yielded twice as much as before, trade doubled, and the people were fruitful and multiplied - the King himself fathering two beloved sons: Scott and Alexander. However, just as Christopher was to celebrate his twentieth year on the throne, he was killed by the evil and wicked sorcerer Charles.
> 
> King Christopher’s murder, only two years after the death of his wife, left his sons orphaned, the elder still far too young to assume the responsibilities of the Crown. Instead, the Summers’ highest advisor, Sebastian Shaw, assumed the Regency, overseeing young Scott’s upbringing and rise to rule. The prosperity Genosha had enjoyed withered and died: its people fell into near-starvation; alliances with other kingdoms came to hang upon tenterhooks.
> 
> Hope rested on young King Scott’s shoulders. And possibly, even on those of Alexander, his younger brother. 

_unpublished draft of Janos Quested’s “History of Genosha”, date unknown_

-

Erik stares at Regent Shaw, who has been silent for nearly ten minutes, gripping a letter tightly in his hand. That is never a good sign for one of these Privy Council meetings; a quiet Shaw is a Regent whose anger will soon bubble up and spillover everyone else in the room. More than once, Erik has watched Shaw’s anger flare into violence; once he slapped his second-in-command, Azazel, so hard that the man was propelled across the room.

To Shaw’s right and left are each of the Summers heirs - Prince Scott and Prince Alex - young men still learning how to lead under Shaw’s tutelage. Erik thinks that might come into question based on the taut silence. The letter in Shaw’s hand had been in Scott’s at the start of this meeting, and it rightly should go back to the Prince when everyone is dismissed.

“You’re engaged?” Shaw asks Scott, his voice low. The menacing timbre ricochets against the stone walls, and Erik braces himself to not follow in Azazel’s unfortunate example.

“I will be. King Logan was recently widowed, and his fiancee, Anna Marie, ran off with one of his guards. You know I was always one of his potential consorts. Father told me that as a young boy.”

“This won’t do! Alex can’t lead yet. He doesn’t know anything.” Shaw’s voice cracks around the table, booming up to the ceiling and back down again.

“You’ll still be Regent, Sebastian. It is your job, and Erik’s, to make sure he’ll be the King Genosha needs.” Scott’s voice never rises to meet Sebastian’s. Erik hopes that Alex will be like his brother in that regard. As is his place, Erik listens closely and says nothing, retaining all he hears for later examination.

Shaw finally deflates, slumping into his chair as Scott’s words sink in. Scott’s not a stupid man, though he is young to be marrying an immortal King. Scott won’t outlive his husband, just as Queen Jean had not. Erik knows he was never one of Scott’s favorite guards, but he is Alex’s, which is why Erik finds himself listening to this family drama unfold. Erik would rather be training the new recruits, who, even after weeks of instruction, still sadly lack most skills necessary to protect a King.

“I will accept Logan’s proposal, regardless of your opinion,” Scott informs Shaw. He turns to address his brother. “You should start preparing to be King, Alex.” Always the political one Scott was, and while the brothers are only three years apart, Erik hopes that Alex has some of Scott’s sensibilities when it’ll come to ruling. Shaw certainly hasn’t given Alex the time or attention to his studies that Scott received, but now he will. Erik has seen how little tutoring Alex was given in history, war and diplomacy.

Scott stands and walks out of the room, effectively ending the meeting. Erik truly hopes there isn’t anything else that they needed to discuss that will immediately affect Genosha; Shaw’s ire will not die down for hours still, and another one of these meetings isn’t scheduled for another week.

Alex starts to follow, but Shaw stops him. “Alex, you stay. If this is going to happen, we have more to discuss.”

Erik stays and listens. There aren’t enough prayers to say in hope that Shaw’s poor mood won’t make Alex’s life miserable in the future.

“You recall that Scott was sent away for a few months, three years ago?”

Alex nods. Erik remembers, also. 

“He had to prove to Genosha that he was worthy of their rule. So you now must to the same.”

There is no response from Alex, who, as the younger of two sons, has never had much reason to talk to Shaw. As long as Shaw’s guided the kingdom, he’s focused only on Scott, but now he’ll need to prepare Alex to rule if the country is to survive and thrive again.

Shaw continues. “Your father was killed by an evil sorcerer in the woods to the north. You must avenge his death, and then we will know that you’ll be ready to rule. I have heard rumors that the sorcerer has returned to harm our people, perhaps even bewitching them.” 

“Am I to go alone? Scott had a guard or two when he was sent to take down the dragon in the southern hills that had burned all our crops that harvest.”

Shaw draws his hand to his chin and thinks. “No, you are not to go alone. We must see you returned to us. Erik will go with you. Along with a few others of your choosing. But do so wisely. A poor choice in one man or too many men could hinder your results.”

Erik starts to push his chair back after a moment of silence. Shaw doesn’t say anything so everyone is free to leave. Genosha’s future has been tied heavy as a yoke around Alex’s neck, and Erik’s by extension; he wants nothing more than to leave right now and find a way to prepare for Alex’s quest. 

Alex rises from his chair soon after, giving Erik a quick nod before they part ways at the chamber door, two guards falling in behind the prince as Erik turns in the opposite direction.

-

Given his own choice on Alex’s quest - Erik wouldn’t go on this one. He had been one of Christopher’s youngest knights at barely ten and seven, and now at seven and twenty, he wishes his life still revolves around swords and training, patrols and combat, not the politics of protecting the second in succession; he loves the feel of a hilt in his hand during battle, but as Alex’s personal guard, battles are few and far between. He hates how much of a pawn he is for someone he didn’t give his alliance to, though Shaw has made him a favorite in jousting tournaments and festivals showcasing all the knights’ prowess as a younger man. King Christopher had been a good and kind man to let Erik in the guard at a young age; working under Shaw’s Regency is everything he didn’t want from the work he had chosen. If Erik hadn’t been Alex’s favorite, Erik knows he would have left the guard years ago to find another vocation.

He knows better, however. His parents, frail as they are, still need some of his salary to keep their farm afloat.

But, as Alex’s lead guard, the quest is Erik’s responsibility to organize, and so he pushes his thoughts of retirement aside, turning his attention towards all of the recruits doing their forms and formations in the middle of the practice arena.

Armando, Erik’s squire, is leading the rest of the young boys in trying to keep themselves from falling into piles of horse shit. Erik trusts Armando with his life - and has on more than one occasion - if Armando is to fill his shoes, he must go with Alex. 

That leaves another four or five spots open. Erik sighs, just in time to watch everyone else fall to the ground. Sean, the smallest of the lot, lands on one of the dung piles.

“Of course you’d be the one to eat shit,” Erik says to Sean; he can never resist being an ass to these boys, even after only a few weeks of acquaintance.

“I didn’t eat it, Sire,” Sean replies, puffing up his chest as if he isn’t a fool at the moment.

Erik wants to give him some credit, because it’s true, but stops himself. That doesn’t mean that Sean won’t cause any number of problems in the forests if he is to follow Alex and Erik. 

At least John, Robert, and Warren managed to miss the shit, though they look only a little less worse for wear than Sean. Armando must have put them through a rough set today. They’re all still so green, but this might be just what they need from Erik - time to work on strategy in real settings - and from each other. There’s only a rough image in Erik’s mind of what the day to day passage of Alex’s quest will be, but there has to be time for the men to bond and work together.

Alex can’t rely on Erik forever. He hopes the Prince knows that, but Alex should begin to rely on these boys instead. For the future wherein Erik can retire and leave all of this behind. If only so Erik can finally have some measure of a normal life, far off dream that it is to him. Pushing away that idea yet again, Erik calls the men over to him to begin their next lesson.

-

The Regent is true to his word, and four days after Alex, with Erik’s approval, finalizes their team, they are off into the deep woods to kill the Sorcerer, Charles. Riding out from the castle at the center of the city grown up around its walls, it looks as if the entire populace has gathered to fare them well along the main thoroughfare, the crowds thin as the questers pass beyond the comforts of the city proper, only a few stragglers tossing their flowers and branches at the city’s northern gate, floral notes mixing with the strong scent of pine. Soon Erik is left with six young men in search of a sorcerer, horses clopping as they ride sedately into the darkness of the forest. They only have another few hours of daylight at the end of winter, the vernal equinox still a few weeks away. Erik curses, again, that they couldn’t leave at dawn without fanfare; instead going out at noon when the villagers would be watching with curious or morbid interest.

Erik knows these woods well - King Christopher had sent him here as a young squire to learn the country - and it is an easy journey. Four days pass quickly enough with the group sharing stories as they ride and sleeping against trees to ward off the chill, their bedrolls and fires not nearly enough to keep the last of winter’s winds from whipping at them every night in between all the tall trunks of the trees. 

On the fifth day, Erik wakes early to see a stranger standing in their camp, looking lost and very confused, but not scared enough to avoid a small encampment of men with swords and horses. It will be Sean’s head Erik will yell at when he finds the youngest man who neglected to stay awake through his watch.

“Who are you?” he demands. He grabs for his sword, tucked just under his bedroll.

“Just a poor invalid. My name is Francis.” The man’s hands rise up in peace, but Erik knows better than to trust only his vision.

“Do you seek to hurt His Royal Highness Prince Alexander?” He holds the sword at the ready still, ready to push himself up and towards this man if necessary.

“I didn’t even know he was here. My apologies.” Francis attempts to bow towards the sleeping bodies of everyone else but falls as he does, the cane in his right hand giving way. He nearly lands on the embers of the fire. Erik drops his sword and reaches for him, but Francis has already righted himself.

Erik says, “Oh, don’t bother bowing. He doesn’t rest on ceremony, and since he’s still sleeping, he’ll never know.”

“You won’t tell him?” Francis asks curiously, looking nervous as he stares at the sleeping bodies surrounding Erik. His feet are more sure now than they were moments ago, but still not completely stable.

“No, I won’t. But you should sit, Francis. You look most uncomfortable.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but Erik cuts him off.

“No, it’s not nothing. Sit here and stay for a spell. I have been in need of company.”

“These boys are not company enough?”

“Well, they are, but not of the sort that I’m accustomed to.”

“And who are you more accustomed to?”

“Trained knights of the House of Summers, not merely their squires and trainees.” Erik’s eyes flicker between Francis’s face and the rest of him: a dusty maroon robe, boots peeking out from the hem, and a series of black ribbons on each wrist. He feels himself looking too intently before a voice interrupts.

“Oh,” Francis says, “I had forgotten that Prince Alex was to start his quest this month.”

“Yes, he has. It has been uneventful so far. Until you.” Erik winks, and as he does, he feels as if his body is betraying him; he was never one to seek or find attention from others, but there was something about this slight man with a limp that had Erik acting against his nature and wanting something that he rarely had.

“I’m an event. How novel for me.”

“You don’t attract attention wherever you go?”

Francis shakes his head. “No, I tend to try and blend into the background and avoid the spotlight.”

“So you happen upon small groups of sleeping men and hope no one wakes up in the woods out of habit, dressed in that? I’m surprised no one mentioned you more.”

“Not as such. I tend to walk when everyone sleeps, only you caught me. But it is not often that there are such groups in the woods. You are searching for Charles the Sorcerer, correct?”

“Alex is. He is to defeat him to prove to Regent Shaw that he is capable of leading Genosha. Prince Scott has betrothed himself to King Logan and will not rule.”

Francis simply hums, as if he understands the dealings of the Summers family, royalty or not. Erik knows that he is in a privileged position as Alex’s primary knight and guard, even if the country is always interested in what the Summers boys do as they grow into their majorities to rule and follow as all subjects will do looking to the simple images that both men employ rather than the substance of each’s mind.

While Erik thinks of what the citizens might think if they happen upon this group as they are currently, Sean wakes and bangs around as he is wont to do, still having forgotten that he should be guarding everyone else. That causes everyone else to rouse from their slumber, Armando and Alex each eying Sean for neglecting his duty.

Erik silently curses as the noise grows louder and louder, but as he is about to tell Francis to stay, the man is gone as if he disappeared into thin air.

“Dammit, Sean! You all stay here and wake up - and don’t think I won’t make you work harder for falling asleep in your duty - I have something to do.” Erik grabs one of the waterskins and a small bucket of water as if he’ll get everyone something to clean themselves with.

By the time he finds Francis, they are nearer to the castle that creeps up in the middle of the forest than his camp. 

“Why did you leave?” he demands when they are no more than five paces apart, though fog looms around them making it hard to see.

Francis gives no answer and he simply walks on, as if Erik has not spoken to him for five minutes in the still of the dawn or yelled at him just now. The clouds envelop Francis a moment later.

Erik yells again and when there is no sign that Francis would turn around, Erik returns to the camp, mood souring as he trudges back. As he starts, the fog lifts as if by magic and Erik thinks that the meeting bodes ill will for them all after there had been a glimmer of hope only an hour ago.

-

Erik’s pace back towards Alex and the boys is slow and just as he finds himself near them - bucket still empty in his hand - a figure materializes in front of him. Once the dust settles and a deep fog lifts, Erik sees Francis again. As he blinks to confirm what he sees, however, Francis is no longer there and in his place is a man that Erik has only heard described before in drunken tales: Charles the Sorcerer. It’s easy to tell with the large black cape that billows behind him, and even more so once Erik can see the piercing blue eyes with the slight glint in the sunlight that have bewitched more than a dozen men and three dozen women before.

“What?” Erik manages to ask.

“That is not the right question to ask, Sir Erik. But I will say this to you: you are beautiful and you will be loved. By me, if you do as I say.”

Erik tries to form words, but finds his mouth dry. Charles’ beauty has been rumored by the few who have seen him and not been cast under his spells, but it is nothing compared to what is in front of Erik. It’s not so much just the striking blue of his eyes when contrasted with his pale skin and red lips, but those are the first things that catch his attraction right now. No one has been able to properly describe Charles before, Erik thinks.

Erik next takes in the dark black leather that tightly covers Charles’ body, then looking again at the cape at Charles’ neck flowing behind him. Everything settles into Erik’s mind to tell him that he must have been talking to Charles’ disguise before; Charles must have been looking for weaknesses to expose later. 

“What does that mean?” Erik finally says, mind catching up with Charles’ words.

“It will be explained later, but we must work together to defeat Shaw - Alex’s true enemy - and have Alex ascend the throne.”

“Shaw is at fault here?” That makes no sense, even if Erik never liked the man.

“Well, yes, he is. I’m not as evil as he makes me out to be. He has his own tricks and far fewer scruples than I do.”

Erik shakes his head, trying to believe what’s being said to him. As he finally feels everything sliding into place, Charles draws closer to him and kisses him.

 _You will be mine, Sir Erik. You will be mine and I will be yours._ A voice rings in Erik’s mind and before Erik can do anything else, Charles pulls back after only a few seconds, leaving Erik to gape at what has just happened. Seconds later, Erik’s mind awakes from a figurative fog and he stares at Francis again. Charles all but forgotten.

“Will you allow me to take you back to Prince Alex?” Erik asks, thinking of how nice it would be to introduce Alex to someone who could make Erik happy in years to come.

“No, Alex must not know of us yet. Follow me to my home and I shall explain everything.”

“But--” Erik starts and stops, buying a moment to articulate his thoughts in the proper order. “I must protect Prince Alex and I shouldn’t leave him. Can I trust you to leave me unharmed if I come with you? Will you bring me back to him or am I to wander the forest blind after you’ve finished with me?” There are too many pieces of information that his mind wants to fit together but can’t as though he’s been bewitched. 

“Do you trust your heart? What does it say? What did it say when you met me only an hour ago? I mean you no harm, quite the opposite in fact, but we can’t discuss that here in the open. My warding spells are weaker here than my home.”

Erik stands there and thinks back to those brief moments when he woke and saw a stranger who wasn’t put off by the sword drawn or by the story Erik told of Alex’s journey. There isn’t a name for what Erik feels about Francis, but it might be a blossoming attraction if not something deeper and ill-defined.

“I think I’m attracted to you,” is all he can get out, is all that his mind can decide is real.

“Wonderful. Now take my hand.” Francis extends his hand towards Erik and slowly Erik puts his hand into Francis’ palm.

In a flash, the woods are gone and Erik stands in a dark and dank cottage, Francis sitting at a stool.

 

-

“What is the meaning of all of this?” Erik demands, reaching for his belt only to realize that he hadn’t put it on before he left earlier chasing after Francis.

“All will be explained in due time, Erik. But do come here,” Francis says. A chair appears next to where Francis sits, waiting for Erik to sit and make it complete.

“How do you know my name?”

“You gave it to me when we met, don’t you remember?” Erik sees that Francis looks as if Erik’s hesitance is no problem at all, a slow broad smile spreading across his face.

Erik doesn’t remember anything of the sort. “I don’t remember that. You’re lying.” He paces the room, trying to come to terms with everything that has happened. He had met Francis, Francis had run away, he had seen Francis transform into Charles and then he is here with Francis once again.

“Tell me if I’m lying when I say that we will sleep together before night falls.”

That stops Erik dead in his tracks, and he can’t think of anything in response. There is a feeling surrounding him that told him this space is safe - a home filled with love - but it might have been an easy trick for Charles to create.

“You’re wrong. I won’t sleep with you.”

“Time will tell who is right and who is wrong.” At that, Erik laughs and stays where he is, feet firmly planted on the floor, going nowhere near the chair that Francis created.

“We are not so different you and I,” Francis says. “We have both long ignored what we truly want. I heard it in your voice earlier. You want to leave the King’s employ.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I know you, Erik. Better than you want to admit.”

“Nonsense. I will serve Alex as King when he is crowned.”

“You may well do that, but you will be miserable. You put the happiness of others above yourself: your parents, your King, your trainees.”

Erik says nothing, because there was nothing he could say. It’s truth being said through the mouth of a man whom he’s supposed to have Alex kill. He shouldn’t trust anything said by Francis - or Charles - or whoever is sitting across from him.

“Oh Erik. Your desire to always fight will give way soon enough. I can see it cracking already.”

“And how will it crack? With your words or with your body, Francis?” He bites out the name of the man seated there, even if he is sure that Francis and Charles are the same being. As if he is just another man taken in by the spell of the famous sorcerer.

“With my body, I know. You want something that you see here. If only you’ll let yourself have it.”

“Why would I sleep with an invalid?”

“Because you only see yourself as being worthy of my attention. But you are more beautiful than that, Erik. Allow me to show you.”

Erik scoffs and tries to step back, but finds now that his feet are rooted to the floor. Francis rises from the stool and walks towards him. Rather than seeing the dark maroon tunic dress from before, Francis now wears brown trousers and a short rust tunic tied with a leather belt, wrists still clad in black leather. He looks no more haggard than anyone else in the city outside the castle, but Erik wouldn’t let himself believe anything.

“You are beautiful, Erik. You’re majestic, in fact.” Francis moves closer and closer to Erik’s position and Erik tries to shy away from the potential contact.

“You lie. I am a servant of the King, no majesty in myself.” His voice shakes with how much he wants to believe the words he speaks, but as the echo of them fills the room, they come back hollow and lacking.

“But you are so much more, if you would see it. Regent Shaw has twisted your pride and admiration for King Christopher into something ugly since his death. You hide it well amongst your fellow knights, but your heart dies slowly. Allow me to revive it. Allow me to give you life again.”

At that, Francis steps up on the tips of his toes and kisses Erik again. This one more than their previous one, a firm press of lips against each other and with it a passion that leaches from Francis and settles into Erik’s body. Francis is hesitant, careful and slow, but eventually coaxes Erik’s mouth open into something Erik has only heard of before. Erik has never had anyone want to kiss him like this: as if he is treasure to be plundered and pillaged.

Francis’ lips open up as Erik’s lips part and he changes the angle of their kiss, bringing their mouths together again with room for Francis’ tongue to slip inside Erik’s mouth. Moaning, Erik tries to pull back, but Francis only works harder to kiss Erik senseless, one of Francis’ hands gripping Erik’s body in place.

Fuzzy from Francis’ kissing him, Erik’s body goes lax and he finds his hands resting at Francis’ own hips, his head bowing to meet Francis more firmly.

 _You will be mine, Erik. And I will be yours,_ echoes through Erik’s mind and the room.

The words repeat themselves over and over again in Erik’s mind, and before long his feet could move and he is led towards a bed kept in the far corner of the cottage.

Francis’ lips never leave his body, kissing his lips, his neck, his shoulders.

Erik gives himself over to the sensation, kissing back, caressing and gripping Francis’ body in turn.

Just as Erik feels himself return to himself, his vision whites out and he finds a bliss he has no words to describe.

Sleep carries him not long after, though Erik isn’t sure how long he and Francis have been enraptured with each other.

-

Bright yellow light strikes Erik’s eyes when he wakes, though he has no idea how long he has been sleeping or how long he has been in this cottage. 

With Francis, his mind remembers. The other half of the bed is long cold where Erik hasn’t been.

Francis, who is nowhere to be seen. There’s no sign the other man has ever been here, so far as Erik can tell: there are no bootprints on the dusty floor, no cooling pot of oats, no rag that has been used to wash away the sweat from their coupling.

Erik finds himself naked under the blanket and gathers his clothes from where they are strewn all over the floor to ready himself to leave when a knock rocks the cottage.

“Erik? Are you awake?” an unfamiliar voice calls and Erik hurries to put on his trousers before he opens the door.

“Who are you?” he asks when he opens the door a fraction of an inch to see a man, just taller than he is, with glasses and large uncovered feet. He’s holding a tray with what must be breakfast.

“I’m Hank. Francis asked me to bring you these.”

Erik grumbles, but opens the door wider to let Hank enter.

“He also gave me this note for you to read,” Hank says, placing the tray on the table that Francis had sat at the night before. The letter he holds onto until Erik plucks it from his hand.

“Thank you, now leave.”

“I’ll be just outside. Francis wishes that you stay until you are ready and that we leave for your team’s camp later today. It’s all explained in the letter.”

“Fine. Now leave me be.” There is more force to Erik’s command for Hank to leave than might have been necessary, but he is annoyed and frustrated. Whatever has happened between he and Francis yesterday must have meant nothing if the man is gone without warning.

 _He_ must be worth nothing. So much for the pretty words of a man who killed his King years before.

Erik finally sits at the table and picks at the plate of cheese, bread and an apple before he opens the letter.

_Erik,_

_I had to leave you as you slept, but let me assure you of two things: you are well loved and you will help Alex to his throne._

_As to the first, I am sure you are skeptical. I did leave, but with reason. I cannot tell you why now, but trust me dearest, that you are mine, and I am yours. We always will be._

_To the second, you and I are part of a much larger puzzle than Shaw would have had you believe. Yes, I am Charles the Sorcerer, but I am not the man who killed King Christopher. Shaw did that - with his own twisted dark magic that he conceals from all - and placed blame on me._

_If you trust me, you can help me right the wrongs he has caused all of Genosha. I have seen a future where Alex sits atop the throne and you and I will be together here in my cottage, sheets tangled together, like our souls will be._

_But for now, please trust in Hank. He will help you find your way back to Alex._

Erik reads the words over and over again five times before he gives up all pretense and opens the door.

“Come in,” he says to Hank. “Charles has willed it.”

Hank quickly walks into the room and looks around. Erik knows that he hasn’t eaten much of his breakfast, and so he sits down to eat another few pieces of cheese.

“So,” Hank starts.

“Yes, say your peace.”

“Charles will come back when he knows the time is right.”

“And how does Charles know when the time is right?” Erik stabs an apple before he takes the knife out and slices it.

“Charles has many powers - magical and not - including the gift of precognition. He knows what might happen, but has to sit back and wait for other factors to play out before he can know for certain.”

“Why didn’t he tell me that?”

“You already don’t trust him, even if you slept with him last night.”

Erik wants to make a point of disagreeing, but he can’t. Erik knows what Hank says to be true. How Charles knew that and told Hank only gives Hank’s words more credence.

“But, your trust in Charles will change, I’m sure. It always does. For now, let me lead you back to His Royal Highness and I will help him and his men.”

Erik nods and allows Hank to prattle on about anything and everything as he finishes his breakfast. Who knows how much damage all his trainees will have caused while he has run off in search of Francis?

-

The walk back towards the camp takes no time at all, and how that happens Erik has no idea. But as they walk, Erik notes once more the large feet Hank has and how quickly the boy is to notice the sights and sounds in the dark corners.

In that at least, Hank will fit in with everyone else in this team. It wasn’t difficult to have Alex agree to the other trainees who are all special - like both Alex, Scott and Erik are.

Armando has the agility to react to anything: leaving him impossible to kill in battle. Sean - though how it happens, Erik doesn’t know - can scream and nearly deafen anyone in a fifty foot radius. John and Robert have affinity to heat or to cool anything at the slightest touch respectively. Warren might as well fly for how graceful he is in battle.

Erik doesn’t say anything to Hank about the men that they are meeting, because it will be apparent enough as soon as Hank spends more than one day with them.

Instead, Erik just walks and lets himself be led to the copse of trees where he first met Francis only a day ago. At the trees, Erik is surprised to see that no one has left.

“You’re horrible at this job,” he says when he’s within earshot.

“No, we waited,” Sean says, stance defiant as he meets Erik’s gaze. 

Erik still has a mind to chastise the boy for his failed task from before, but instead he says, “And what if I didn’t come back?”

“Then we would have left,” Warren says.

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t have known what to do - Armando included. How do you expect to defeat Charles with men like these, Alex?”

Alex looks up from where he was sharpening a few of his daggers on a large rock. “I’d have told us to move on in a day or two. To confirm that you wouldn’t have returned.”

“If you say so.” Erik knows that his ire is misplaced. He should be, and is, angry at Charles for leaving, but that doesn’t mean Alex and the men are ready for battle. Whatever the battle might be. “You all need to train more if we’re to take on Charles. Hank here,” and now Erik points to Hank’s presence at his side, “he’s here to help you all.”

“I am?” Hanks asks.

“You are. Your master commanded it, didn’t he?” Erik hopes that Hank cottons on to what he says.

“Oh yes, you’re right.”

From there Erik lets Hank blend into the group and goes off to another tree just far enough away from them to give himself time to think while he still can observe and yell when required. 

-

Hank blends in well enough that after five days, Hank is doing more of Erik’s job than Erik is; Hank is leading all of them in formations and conversations about strategies, and yielding much more positive responses from the boys as well. It feels good to have less responsibility, but idle time leaves him to think about Francis and/or Charles more and more.

What does it all mean that he and Charles are to be together? How can he go from the life he lives now - service to his Princes and his country - to a life at the side of a man who allegedly killed his King?

Erik finds he thinks of that all too often, and as Hank works more and more with everyone else, the restless feeling in Erik grows stronger and stronger. He can’t abandon his duty here, but he knows that his purpose has changed into something closer to obsolescence. 

The boys all laugh and chuckle at each other when the day’s work is over, happily packing up camp and moving closer to the north’s most ominous manor. 

They settle into the new space as the sun setting is over the ever present trees. Erik stares at the fire slowly coming to life and realizes how this new tableau is best without him. There’s nothing else for him to do here, his training days over upon Hanks arrival; Erik slips out of their camp in the dead of night to find his own measure of peace again. He might find Charles, or he might find something else, but he needs to get away from these men who were to be his life before he suffocates himself in his honor and duty to King Christopher.

There are too many questions he needs answered to avoid a confrontation any longer. Erik knows he will travel days if necessary to find what he needs.

-

Erik realizes after a few hours in the dark what a poor idea his leaving is. However, he has too many desires to address, too many questions to demand answers to, and so he continues in his search for Charles.

Just as dawn creeps in between the leaves of myriad trees does Erik find what he has been searching for: Charles stands in a shaft of light from above, looking demonic with his dark clothes surrounded by bright white light.

“You shouldn’t have come,” is all Charles says when Erik is just close enough to touch him.

“They had no use for me back there; Hank took over most of my duties and did them with far less resistance.”

“Hank has his own set of duties and I hadnt thought that yours and his would overlap so much.” Charles sighs, as if his mind couldn’t - and didn’t - see the possibility occurring at all, and Erik wants to tell this man that it doesn’t matter if Erik had nothing to do there.

Instead, Erik says, “Clearly you don’t know enough of my duties, Charles.” He sneers because he can’t believe that he left to find this man again even as his mind sought out the change of pace; there are too many warring ideas in Erik’s mind for anything to make sense. Charles is this man who is both everything he wants and everything he hates in the world. Nothing is simple, and Erik longs for simplicity again.

“You must put aside your anger at King Christopher’s death. I had no part in it. I will show you later, if you’ll let me.”

“Stop it!” he yells. “Just stop being you. I can’t stand that I want you when I know you’re evil.” 

“I’m not evil in the least. Just enterprising and devious when called for by circumstances. There is a difference. Not that Shaw’s hold over you would allow you to know the difference.”

Erik huffs and turns to leave, but finds that again his feet are rooted to the floor quite literally. Roots have tangled around his feet rather than simply sticking to the moss and leaves underfoot.

“Let me tell you what happened to King Christopher those ten years ago. It will change your mind, I know.”

Seeing no escape, Erik says, “If you must.” As if on cue, the copse of trees around him vanishes and he’s back in the cottage from those weeks before.

“Now, let me tell you of how King Christopher died,” Charles starts and Erik can do nothing but sit and listen. The room’s decor sort of disappears in a fog and Erik can only see ghosted figures in a forest.

“It was just when King Logan married his now deceased Queen Jean and King Christopher was returning from the wedding. I was on the path between the kingdoms when Shaw cast a spell over the King’s horse.” The images change, revealing what must have been the path between King Logan’s kingdom and Genosha, but the people in his vision seem ready to disappear at the slightest breath. Erik keeps his mouth closed and watches as Charles continues.

“The horse wandered off and into my way and before long, the King was dead - I know not how - and when Shaw made his way towards us, he screamed and yelled that I had done it.”

The forest darkened and soon Erik sees the old white horse who King Christopher favored as a boy that no one in Genosha had killed when she grew unsteady later because of the King’s fondness, head held high as she walked with the King on her back. It’s so odd to see his King again, to see the smile and determination from King Christopher that he gave Erik so often.

“I had only meant to observe them on the way back, to find out more about the wedding and suddenly I was this evil sorcerer who killed the King. Nothing I had done had forced the horse off her path, nor did I go see what happened to the King, but no more than half an hour after the King wandered off, he was dead and Shaw declared me a killer.”

Erik finds it impossible to move at the story’s conclusion. It’s against everything he knows of how King Christopher died, but that’s rather the point. The images that Charles had created fade away, the forest floating away as if it never existed and the room’s regular appearance reemerges.

“Trust yourself now, Erik. Do you believe me or Shaw?”

Erik’s mind rakes through the two stories and tries to make sense of both of them, weighing each side’s details and trying to find fault in one. On one side is what everyone in Genosha knows: that Charles happened upon the King after the wedding and poisoned him. But Erik also knows that there were never any signs of poison on the King’s body when he was laid to rest, nor were there any stories of Charles’ evil before then. And now there is Charles’ tale: that Shaw killed the King. But for what reason?

“Why would Shaw want King Christopher dead?”

“Because the King trusted him less and less the older the Princes became. Shaw was on his way out once the Queen died and there hadn’t been enough time between that event and King Christopher’s death to change the Royal Will.”

“And is that why the Kingdom has suffered since King Christopher died?”

“In part, yes. It is also a bit to do with me. I can’t allow Shaw to thrive after all that he’s done.” Charles winks as if it will settle Erik’s opinion about everything that has happened in these ten years gone and as if Charles’ interest in Erik will solve all their problems. Charles put lives at risk and ruined Genosha’s economy just to spite Shaw without regard for what that meant to the people.

“Then I trust your story. I can’t explain why, but I do.”

“You know your heart, Erik. You know what you want.”

In truth Erik didn’t know his heart, but if given enough time, he might.

-

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” Charles asks as he prepares a small stew for them after Erik found himself transported to the cottage after Charles’ tale. The scent of carrots, rabbit and herbs wafting up from the cauldron.

“What choice do I have? I have no need to return to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do. Just not yet. Let Hank do his work.”

Erik grows more and more frustrated at Charles’ foresight, but he finds that he almost prefers the contrary nature of Charles to the sound of the trainees not meeting his high standards. Idle time could do him good he thinks as he watches Charles prepare their meal.

“And what is Hank’s work? To ruin the Prince for the battle between you two? Make it so that you’ll win, and Alex will fail?”

“Heavens no!” Charles says, the wooden spoon clanking noisily from side to side, as if Charles can’t help but make noise to drown out Erik’s question.

“Then what?”

“Hank is preparing Alex for a battle against Shaw - whenever that needs to happen - as well as a small battle against me. Shaw must have a show to hear of, after all. Shaw is the real villain here, and I won’t let him go without a fight. Hank will do his best to train everyone to know what to expect from me so that the battle will look real. Only after a few rounds will it be time for Alex to battle Shaw himself; despite what Shaw told you, he will want to see me fall. For that job, Hank is well prepared.”

Charles’s words all come with an air of acceptance and finality that makes Erik nervous, but as he does, he also remembers that Charles has the ability to see the future. Erik is just one more part of Charles’ plans.

“I can also read your surface thoughts. Though I try not to. Unless you’re thinking of me.” Another wink from Charles and Erik feels as if he’s being measured and weighed for battle rather than just having an awkward conversation with a man who says they’ll be lovers sooner or later.

“You are being measured. But for something else entirely. I will not only have you once.”

“And how do you expect me to respond? I don’t remember agreeing to sleep with you before.”

“Oh, I have my ways, Erik. You’ll be happy enough to have me make you moan when the time is right. When you accept that you can have the life you’ve dreamed of.”

Erik thinks he must, but he tries to resist all the same. It’s all very strange to be across from a man who will be so intimately familiar with him later. Erik blushes but tries to hide it by getting up from the table and looking for a book on one of the shelves.

-

Despite their first night arguing and squabbling over what Erik was to do with himself, Erik finds Charles pleasant company. Charming, disarming and a passable cook help to make the days pass in a haze where Erik only remembers that he is fed, he is allowed to read and he is made to feel important.

However, to this point Erik has yet to sleep with Charles again. In point of fact, Charles has gone so far as to avoid touching Erik altogether. It’s maddening to Erik that he thinks a man who claims that they will be together could avoid his prize just as it’s maddening to him that he could eventually be with a man so cunning and devious.

For when Erik had thought of his future partner, he was nothing like Charles.

“You didn’t know you could have someone like me, Erik. That is why it never occurred to you,” Charles says absently as he reads a book; Erik had been doing the same and he drops the volume to his lap to stare at Charles.

Erik’s just formulated a response when the door swings openly with a clatter and a woman with blue skin walks in.

“Charles, what is the meaning of all this? You have a battle to prepare for.”

“I am preparing, Raven. See, Erik is here. We’re just warming up so that I can know what the Prince knows of fighting. I’ve been getting to know Erik personally while also learning his body. If I know how Erik fights, I’ll know how Alex will fight.”

Erik scoffs at the idea of revealing his tactics before he draws his attention back to the woman, but then he remembers that Charles has been looking at him whenever they have time together.

“Well, you should hurry that up. Some of the birds have just returned from seeing Hank. The Prince is almost ready and they’re making their way towards the old manor in three days. You’ll need to be there by then or else your game will be ruined.”

“Then I’ll be ready by then. As will Erik. He still has his part to play as well.”

As if the conversation is over, Raven - whoever she is - leaves the room and Charles lets out a heavy sigh, clearly frustrated by her barging into the room and telling him what he already knows. Erik idly asks who this woman is who might know Charles so well and why she didn’t look at Erik more closely.

“That is my half-sister and my keeper most of the time; she’s known that we’ll be together for just as long as I have. Though in her mind, she’s apprenticing with the apothecary and only looks after me from time to time. She tries to ignore what she knows of us because she finds it distasteful to know so much of her brother’s sex life.”

“Assuming that the apothecary doesn’t know she’s blue.” It’s a snide comment to make, but Erik finds that he can’t help himself right now, especially since he doesn’t want to discuss their purported sex life either.

“Well, yes. Raven is like us, like all of those whom you stay near. She hides well enough that the apothecary won’t know without thinking that she’s smelled something in the mix too long. What happy accidents for us all.”

“If you say so.” Erik looked down at the table and goes about with trying to fill in the time between them with a new book; s the one he’d been reading now seemed insipid.

-

Erik knows for certain now that idle hands are truly the devil’s work. Since Raven’s visit, Erik has found himself with nothing except books to occupy his time. Charles is usually off in the woods setting off his powers if the explosions and bangs are to be believed.

He isn’t meant for an idle life, of this he’s sure, and he wants to tell Charles that when he finally returns for their lunch.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something to do. Your parents are farmers, right?” Charles asks when he comes in from the wood, wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck. 

“They are, but I left the house to study swords at too early an age to know much of it.”

“A smithy then?” We could do well together to make swords and shields that can ward off attacks.”

Erik hums, because that idea could be appealing. It would give him a way to help people even if he’s not longer in service.

“Just think on it more while I’m gone.”

“Still not ready to face His Royal Highness?”

“Not sure of Shaw’s plans, actually. I’m trying to organize a way to know what he might do, but my powers have been weakened when I try to read him. It’ll just take another few hours to work through, however.”

“Can I help?”

“No, you’ll be much better suited here. Thank you for the offer, however. I like knowing that you’ll allow me my freedom when necessary.”

“So long as you’ll do the same.”

“Have I not so far?” It’s asked as if Erik came here willingly.

“Well, you have offered nothing but what’s in the cottage, but I understand that you are busy.”

“Oh, bugger! How rude of me. Let me get you a few things for the day.” A sword and a dummy appeared in Erik’s view and he smiles.

“Thank you.”

-

Erik takes the sword and figure to the other side of the house and lets himself work up a sweat after so many idle days. It feels good to push himself in a series of forms and maneuvers. The sweat at his back and his nape helps to keep him away from Charles, but as soon as he puts down his sword for a brief rest, he only feels distress from the other side of the house.

He runs towards the other side and sees Charles’ prone on the floor, screaming in pain.

“What’s wrong? How can I help?” he asks in a rush.

“Inside,” Charles whispers. Erik carries Charles into the cottage and places him on the bed before he gets some water and a cloth.

“Shaw’s blocked me.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell, but I know he has now. Around him in meetings I sense everyone but him.” Charles coughs and Erik brings the cloth to Charles’ forehead and goes back to get a cup.

“Rest and allow me to look after you. You can’t fight Alex like this and expect to have everything go your way.”

There’s a small nod from Charles, and so Erik leaves both the cloth and cup at Charles’ side and goes about making dinner. 

-

Cooking food allows Erik the time to not look at Charles for a while. Seeing him wan and hurt recalls sharp pains from battles long ago fought, but Erik hadn’t wanted to examine them too closely.

There are enough vegetables and rabbit for another stew, so Erik lets his gift work at chopping and skinning everything. While his hands are still free to work, he goes about starting on the broth, stirring absently as it boils down.

However, his mind keeps returning to Charles’ figure and how it hurts to see him like that. Erik never wants to see anyone whom he trusts like that in such pain, and as he realizes that, Erik’s mind coalesces around what has been happening for weeks now.

He’s falling for Charles. Not just Francis, but Charles. He wants to keep Charles safe and wants to see Charles’ plan succeed.

Without a thought, he drops the vegetables and meat into the thickened broth and goes back to see Charles.

“Feeling better?”

Charles mumbles something, grabbing at Erik’s wrist as he does. _Now that you’re close and I see your thoughts, yes._

It’s the first time since Charles dropped to the floor that Erik has felt Charles’ power and it makes Erik proud to know that Charles does trust him that much. Without thinking, Erik places a soft kiss to Charles’ wet forehead and then says, “I need to check on the stew.”

Charles sends something that might be hunger or could be pain. Erik leaves reluctantly, vowing to be quick in checking on dinner’s progress. 

In no time at all, the stew is ready, and Erik walks back towards the bed to feed Charles. 

-

Erik only takes supper once Charles has had his fill. It’s not as good as Charles’, but it does the trick of making the man’s pale face light up. It’s a pleasant feeling to have made Charles feel better, but Erik also finds that he wants to find his own pleasure today.

 _If you put the bowl away, I’d like to help you,_ Charles sends. Erik wants to say something about Charles’ intrusion but he finds that he can’t. Charles has no problems with Erik’s displays of powers, and he should do the same.

The bowl and spoon are easy to put away and when he returns to the bed, Charles pats the side next to him. Erik goes easily and settles next to Charles, still pliant and content from his food. Shifting for a minute, Erik feels himself relax and lets himself take in Charles’ features again.

“What did you want to do?” Charles asks, as if he knows that Erik’s mind has been cataloging Charles’ features.

Erik doesn’t respond in words, but presses closer to Charles and kisses him, trying to convey what he wants in his actions. As far as he can tell, there’s nothing much to this kiss - just his lips against Charles’.

_It’s wonderful. We have tonight to do more than that, if you’re ready._

“I want you,” Erik whispers.

“And you’ll have me.”

Charles initiates a kiss this time, and it feels different because Charles nips and bites at Erik’s lips as he does.

His mind takes in all the feelings that Charles must be sending, making him want more and more of Charles’ body - not just his lips, the rest of his body and his soul. Charles’ hands are working at Erik’s trousers and Erik wants to do the same because in so many days with Charles, Erik knows that he and Charles are stronger together than they are apart.

Erik grabs for Charles’ shirt and then his own, mind clamoring for more. _Whatever you want tonight, you’ll have,_ Charles sends as the last of their clothes are strewn across the floor and they are together, naked.

“Perfection,” Erik says between kisses when he finds he can, and he can tell Charles feels the same.

-

The dawn peeks in slowly between the small cracks in the wooden slats that cover the windows. Erik wakes next to Charles, for the first time he thinks, and Charles’ body pressed against his feels far more intimate than it should be.

At his side, Erik hears Charles mumble, “We should get ready soon.”

“But I have no armour here,” Erik replies, because he hadn’t come here with anything but the clothes on his back.

“Hmm, easily fixed once I’m fully awake. You’ll need to look as if you haven’t left the Prince’s side.”

Erik notices Charles has curled back into the pillow and blanket, ignoring the rest of the world. Erik, never one to be idle on a day of battle, rises from the bed and goes to start preparing a small breakfast for them. Energy will be necessary for each of them.

In one of the small cabinets near the hearth, Erik finds oats and goes about to make something that will stick to their stomachs and keep them ready for while. As the food cooks, Raven walks into the cottage, carrying a large bag.

“Umm, is Charles still sleeping?”

“He is. How can I help you?”

“This,” she says pointing to the bag, “is all the food you’ll need: cheese, bread, some fruit and roasted vegetables, cured rabbit too.”

“Thank you. I’ll let him know we have it when he gets out of bed.”

“You won’t let him die, will you?” There’s concern in her voice. 

“I won’t let anyone die unless it’s necessary in battle.” It’s not the answer that she probably wants, but it’s the only answer that Erik can give. No knight can ensure all of his men survive battle, that all his foes will not, and he can’t assume anything about this battle.

“Try?”

“I will.” He goes back to looking at the oatmeal, and Raven leaves, closing the door quietly. 

Moments later, Charles turns around to the hearth and smells the food, saying, “Oh Raven’s been here. Don’t worry about her question. She always frets, even if I know what will happen.”

“Not everyone has your skill. Isn’t that rather the point?”

“Oh, it is. But you did well enough. Once we eat, I’ll get to your armour, and we can divvy up the food and leave.”

Erik nods, stirring the food one last time before he dishes some for him and Charles to eat.

-

Erik’s new armour is far better than anything he has ever had from the Summers’ family; it gleams in the bright light as if it were newly pressed steel.

“It’s newly pressed. I’ll add some tarnishes if you think Shaw can tell the difference.”

Erik shakes his head because he can imagine that if he were with the Prince and those young men, he’d have spent time polishing all their armour, just to keep his own powers from atrophying. “It’s fine. I like the way it feels. Clean and pure.”

“It’s both of those things.”

“And you have the colors of my cape and such right.”

“I’d never allow you to look as if you’ve deserted the Prince, Erik. We have a game to play and roles to live up to.”

“Is that why you’re again in black?” Erik couldn’t help but notice that Charles’ armour is nearly pitch black, the steel mixed with something to color it like ink.

“For Shaw’s benefit, yes. Though I hope you know that I mean Alex no ill will.”

Erik could only nod at that. “I trust you, though I don’t know why.”

“You do know why; it just hasn’t been something you can name just yet. You had no problems trusting me last night, so I know you’ll come around soon enough.”

-

In a flash, Erik and Charles are no longer standing in Charles’ cottage, but outside the old manor that everyone knows as Charles’ domain. In another bright ball of light, Alex, Armando, John, Robert, Sean and Warren all appear in armour of their own, colors matching Erik’s. Hank is with them, but as soon as he can, he moves towards the manor as if he needs to hide.

 _Shaw won’t want to see anyone else. Hank does need to hide,_ Charles’ mental voice says. Erik wants to balk about the use of Charles’ powers like this with everyone else present, but as the words settle into his frame of reference, Erik realizes how necessary silent communication is.

“Are you ready, everyone?” Erik asks his other men and his Prince.

“We are.” Charles merely smiles slyly and puts himself far enough away from Alex so they can start a sword fight in moments.

In the distance, Erik feels Shaw’s sword approaching and yells, “Attack!” before he lunges towards Charles with everyone else. 

Erik watches as Charles takes the men on as Shaw approaches, Charles making a show of warding off attacks from Sean and Robert. Erik knows that neither man will be hurt, but the game must be played.

The rest fall back under the pretense of aiding Sean and Robert, leaving only Alex and Charles open to engage; neither man looks as though he’s wont to give up so soon.

“Alex, finish him!” Shaw yells as he dismounts his horse. The small circlet atop his head that mimics the Summers’ crown glints in the sun. “You must kill him to be king!”

Erik finds it odd Shaw has arrived at the penultimate moment of the battle when this quest was meant to be for Alex alone, but then he remembers what Charles had said upon their first meeting and sees that the circlet is probably what kept Charles from reaching into his mind yesterday.

Shaw really is the enemy here.

Moving to stand farther away from Shaw, Erik watches Alex’s moves and hopes that this battle won’t be too far from over.

-

To Erik’s dismay, the battle lasted days, rather than hours. When either Alex or Charles needed to eat, they both stopped and rested or ate, and then began again. 

So far, there had been six of these stoppages, not counting the time when they stopped to sleep. After putting up a show at the onset, all of Alex’s new guards had stopped fighting, realizing this battle truly must be between Charles and Alex.

Shaw brought his own tent to watch everything unfold and when each short break was called, he scowled and tried to hide away from everyone else. Whenever possible, Erik reaches out for the circlet, but finds it’s resistant to his gift.

Erik, when he’s not trying to understand Shaw’s crown, offers Alex any advice he can; he has watched every parry and thrust so far to see where Charles is weakest. Charles’ attacks with fireballs were going to be difficult for Alex to overcome, no matter what Alex can find to stop them, his own power of energy erratic and unable to aim at Charles’ own magic. 

During another break, Alex drinks from a skin of water, and stuffs a half a loaf of bread into his mouth. However, while Erik sees that Alex is making sure to keep himself strong, he also sees that Shaw has left his tent and is lurking near where Charles is drinking and eating, Hank’s figure hovering nearby now, looking like Charles’ page rather than the covert aid that he is.

Erik has a split second to process what he sees before he whispers to the other men, “Look after Alex. I need to do something.” He hasn’t felt Shaw’s sword or circlet since the stoppage started and that can’t be good.

 _Something’s off. Shaw isn’t in his tent,_ he says to Charles, but there’s no sign Charles has heard him.

He makes quick work to arrive at Charles’ makeshift headquarters to repeat his news only to see Shaw take a small dagger from his boot and try to stab Charles in the chest.

“You will not have two Summers on your hands, Sorcerer!” Shaw yells as he lunges at Charles. 

Erik wants to scream, but the noise is caught in his throat. However, he can feel the dagger in Shaw’s hands and all but melts the steel into molten splatter at Shaw’s feet, though he can’t control the circlet at all. His own sword moves from his hip and flies through the air to catch Shaw in the back, piercing through a lung.

The moment is over as soon as it began, and only when Shaw’s body is lying on the ground does Erik hear Charles say, “You won’t have two Summers on your hands, Shaw. You’ll never know power.”

Erik tries to say something - anything - but still nothing comes from his lips. In the distance, though, he hears everyone else yell that Shaw has been killed, the group erupting into chaos.

-

At Charles’ side, Erik watches as the sorcerer explains what has happened.

“Your Royal Highness, I hope Hank gave you some warning of what was to happen, and if not, let me apologize. Fear not, I mean you no harm. It was Shaw who wished you dead. He killed your father those ten years ago, blaming me for it. 

“He wanted power and only power. He would have rathered you failed in your mission, if not had you killed along the way, than to see you kill me and succeed like your brother did in his quest.”

“But why?” Alex asks.

“Your father wanted him off the Privy Council after King Logan’s marriage to Lady Jean Grey. He would have been gone had he not killed your father on the way back.”

“The point is that you live, and he won’t give you counsel ever again,” Erik says, his voice strong with his purpose to lead Alex into his rule.

“But what do we do with his body?” Warren asks.

“We bury it here where no one will find it; he deserves no such honor in burning his body. We leave him here, an unmarked grave. He deserves no one to mourn his death.” Erik answers, his voice cold, lacking any compassion for the man who ruled so much of his life for the sake of usurping proper rites. “I’d rather we just throw him in the river,” Erik adds under his breath.

Charles stifles a laugh, and they both look at the group as they process what will happen next.

“And what do we tell Genosha?” It’s Sean who asks this question, the one that Erik wanted to ask as well.

“That Erik killed him when Shaw tried to kill the Prince. No one but us should know the truth. Do you all agree?” Charles says finally.

Around them, Erik watches as every man nods, Alex last of all.

“Then, we bury him here and leave him,” Alex says firmly, his first act as King.

-

Two weeks after Shaw’s death, Erik stands in the front of the Great Hall and watches Alex become King of Genosha.

The crown rests atop his blond hair, the scepter in his hand as the Cardinal declares Alex, Alexander II, Rex Genosha.

The crowd cheers, and Erik joins in, as the last five weeks wash away from his memory.

After the Cardinal retreats to stand near Erik, Alex rises from the throne and speaks:

“People of Genosha, I will lead you to good health. I will lead you back to prosperity. I will guide our interests as necessary. 

“My first responsibility, however, will be to end the long standing feud with Charles the Sorcerer.” The room gasps at Alex’s words, but Erik knows that he has prepared himself for the shock and that he will press on. “During my quest, it became clear that Charles was not, as reported upon his death, responsible for King Christopher’s death. 

“He who killed my father, our beloved King Christopher, has been punished. We will never hear from him again.

“Let us all rejoice in the day. Go forth and celebrate!”

The crowd is dispersed quickly, though Erik stays with the men who were at Alex’s side during his quest. They won’t leave their king just yet, not until they know what they must do as the newest members of the King’s Guard.

Alex dismisses them all soon after the room is clear, and as Erik walks away, Francis stands at the very back of the Hall, looking just as he did the first time Erik met him.

Erik smiles and walks over to meet him, content in knowing that they can celebrate the night as everyone else might. Charles must protect himself so soon after Alex’s decree, but he hopes that soon enough he and Charles can be lovers openly amongst the people. 

-

_epilogue_

 

With Shaw forgotten, Erik has taken on Shaw’s role as leader of the Privy Council. It’s grueling work, long hours looking over reports that Alex also reads but has less time to parse.

Charles - now free to come and go into Genosha as he pleases and without prejudice - is waiting for Erik when he comes into his new rooms, body exhausted and mind sluggish.

“Oh, come to bed, dear. Let me take care of you,” Charles says, removing layers of Erik’s new clothes as he walks them towards the bed.

“So tired,” is all Erik can say, even if he thinks that Charles can pick up on all of that from his mood and posture.

“I know, love. I know. We’ll talk to the King in the morning. You’ve more than served him well in these last six months.”

“Can’t let him down,” Erik adds a bit drowsy, even as Charles’ hands are working to unleash some of the tension in his shoulders.

“You aren’t letting him down. You have done more than your original duties.” There’s a pause as Charles kisses a spot where he has just worked out a knot. “You need to relax. You need to find your own path now.”

“With you,” Erik mumbles before he finds himself drifting off to sleep.

-

Dust motes dot his vision as Erik wakes, small beams of light breaking through the curtains. At his side, Charles’ arms wrap around him, and for the first time in days he feels relaxed.

He won’t just assume that he feels this way because Charles’ brought him to three orgasms during the night, but it might be the cause of his mood.

“You are much happier and pliant when you’re satisfied. I didn’t imagine you could be so randy,” Charles says, idly moving a hand from Erik’s waist towards his morning erection.

“Neither did I,” is all Erik can say, because it’s the truth.

“Then will you allow me to tell the King that you want to leave today?” One light pull on his erection causes Erik to moan and then Charles says, “Then we shall. Once we’re finished in here.”

-

Sun high in the sky, Erik finally walks into the Privy Council room to meet with the King. Charles is at his side, hands linked together as they walk slowly.

“Your Majesty, I have something to discuss with you,” Erik starts only to be cut off by Charles finishing his sentence.

“You Majesty, Erik has served you well for eleven years, and your father for ten years before that and has never asked for anything in return. But, after all that you have been through in your quest and in his aid of your quest, he wishes to retire.

“We wish to retire together to my cottage, Sir.” Charles’ voice is calm, more like Francis than Erik remembers hearing in public and he waits for Alex to speak.

“After Shaw’s death, we did discuss Erik’s position, and after almost a year at my side as Privy Chair, I think we’ll be fine.” The King shifts in his seat and then rises to look at Erik and Charles as equals, walking towards them. “Hank has been working well as Erik’s assistant and he knows as much as Erik does when it counts.”

Alex pauses again, knitting his brow before he continues. “Yes, Erik, you have served Genosha well. You will be given your salary until your death as a past advisor, and I wish you well.”

“That is far too generous, sir.”

“It’s not for all that you have done for Genosha. The people know not how much they are indebted to you.”

“Thank you, Sir. Do you need anything else from me today?”

“No, I think I shall start to ask Hank for help before we officially announce your retirement. Take the day for yourselves. To sort out whatever you need to do. Again, you both have my thanks; I don’t say it often enough.”

“And you need not, Sir,” Charles says, “We are happy to know we have done well enough in your eyes.”

Alex gives a quick nod, dismissing them both. Hand in hand, Erik and Charles walk away from the Privy Council and from so many years of service to Genosha.

_I don’t know what we’ll do without the Council or trainees._

_We’ll learn each other and figure out the rest. We’ll cultivate hobbies._

Erik chuckles at the idea of him with a hobby and lets himself open up to Charles’ mind so he can feel the same.

“We’ll have so much to do, you won’t miss this at all,” Charles says.

“You know best. You always know best.” Erik knows it’s true and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Di, Miya and J for the beta help. Any remaining are the fault of **afrocurl**.


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